


To The Death

by harlequintessential



Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Gen, but like it could definitely be a lil romantic if you squint, mary has a lot of issues but she hides them behind a veneer of alcoholism and sardonic humour, platonic bros, rob doesn't even bother hiding them but this story isn't from his pov anyway so who cares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-03
Updated: 2017-10-03
Packaged: 2019-01-08 16:44:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12258186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harlequintessential/pseuds/harlequintessential
Summary: "I don't know what the fuck true love is but I do want to hang out with you for basically the rest of my life. (Let's hang out TO THE DEATH.)"  (ASW.)





	To The Death

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this as my birthday present to one of my boyfriends. We've got fifty of these to get through. Theoretically. God help me.

The lingering taste of scotch burns the roof of her mouth, and she crinkles her nose up at the laughing asshole that goaded her into this game. "That's fucking _disgusting_ , Rob."

Another delighted peal of laughter from the idiot she calls her best friend. "Not my fault that ya can't hold your liquor, Christiansen." Robert wields her last name like an insult, or a nickname, or maybe it's both. He's insufferably smug; she wants to hate him for it but can't quite muster the energy to try. Not when his smile is so open and endearing, not when everything he says is so carefully crafted to make her laugh. "Please, I can hold my booze in one hand while _you're_ stumbling down the damn _street_. I'm sorry that I like classier alcohol than you." Mary says, a wild gesture accompanying her challenging words, sloshing wine onto herself and the countertop. "I'm a priest's _wife_ ; I have to be a classy lady."

"He's not even a priest, and no once has ever once seen you as a 'classy lady'." Robert's eyes are warm, and his calloused hands briefly run over her forearms to clear them of liquid. He licks wine from his thumb and frowns in consternation, practically flinching from his own skin. " _Christ_ , that's disgusting. Can't believe  _this_ shit is what turned you to the dark side."

"At least my drug of choice doesn't strip  _paint_ ," she retorts, slugging back the last of her wine in one loose motion. God, that's cheap.

"You wanna get out of here?"

"You asking me to come  _home_ with you, Small? Because while I'm flattered, I'm not drunk enough to forget my wedding vows."

"List  _one_ of your wedding vows."

"Fuck, I don't know; there was something about death?"

Robert stands, shrugging on his jacket. A wicked smile in her direction, a hand extended to help her to her feet. "And I'm gonna be the death of you." It's a promise that he's made before, as early as the day after they first met, but it never fails to convince her round to his side of an argument.

Mary takes his hand.

"Once more unto the breach, dear friend?"

"'Til death do us part."


End file.
